Stories told on porches in the night are the food that feeds our souls. A porch is a stepping off place, where girls kiss their parents goodbye and disappear into an adventure,where moms wait to hear their stories when they come home.It' a place where laughter drowns out the crickets, where friends become family. C'mon up to my porch, pull up a chair and tell me your story. We'll weave it into the quilt that wraps us up when life is cold.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Thinking

Thinking today
about times I flung myself
into untested water
And somehow missed the rocks
about days I sleepwalked through
And nights I was alive down to every pore
wondering how they led me here
And the wondering brings me peace
And the wandering brought me home.